


You Better Run (Run from the Devil)

by midnightsurge



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Arthur as Jack, Charlie as Mason Verger, Dark!Harry, Eggsy as Will (but not really?), Featuring, Hannibal!AU, I Don't Even Know, Implied Cannibalism, M/M, Merlin as Bedelia, PTSD, Roxy as Margot Verger, i couldn't unsee Harry as Hannibal, i don't know where these ideas come from, i watch too many shows, i've clearly gone crazy, just ignore me, though you never actually see it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsurge/pseuds/midnightsurge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re hidin’ something,” the younger man said with apparent ease, his gaze firmly fixated on the person sitting across from him in the opulent office, bookshelves and works of art surrounding them.</p>
<p> “That’s a rather bold statement,” Dr. Harry Hart answered with an indulgent smile, looking completely at ease among the riches of his office while dressed in his perfectly tailored suit. “You hardly know me. Everything about me will appear to be a secret to you until it is divulged aloud, though that will not happen often as I am not the patient in this scenario.”</p>
<p> “No,” Eggsy shook his head slowly, “no, it’s more than that. There’s something you ain’t tellin’ anyone. S’like… you’re wearin’ a mask, an object to hide behind.”</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>The Hannibal AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing at this point, the idea just wouldn't leave me. 
> 
> Title is taken from the song Devil's Whisper by Raury.

“You’re hidin’ something,” the younger man said with apparent ease, his gaze firmly fixated on the person sitting across from him in the opulent office, bookshelves and works of art surrounding them.

            “That’s a rather bold statement,” Dr. Harry Hart answered with an indulgent smile, looking completely at ease among the riches of his office while dressed in his perfectly tailored suit. “You hardly know me. Everything about me will appear to be a secret to you until it is divulged aloud, though that will not happen often as I am not the patient in this scenario.”

            “No,” Eggsy shook his head slowly, “no, it’s more than that. There’s something you ain’t tellin’ anyone. S’like… you’re wearin’ a mask, an object to hide behind.”

            Harry observed his patient quietly, letting him continue without objection. The boy was terribly observant, more so than most people Harry had ever met, and he’d met many high-ranking officers in law enforcement.

            “You’re so posh and proper all the bloody time, but I don’ think that’s what you’re really like, is it.” It was a statement, not a question. “You’re hidin’ something behind all of that.”

            “Are you psychoanalysing me?” Harry chuckled, vaguely amused by the thought. “I do have a psychiatrist who amuses himself doing so every week, there’s no need for you to join in as well.”

            “A psychiatrist who sees a psychiatrist?” Eggsy quirked an eyebrow.

            “Of course. We can’t possibly psychoanalyse ourselves now, can we?” Harry stood from his seat and went to cabinet behind him, reaching for the secret stash of liquor he only brought out when he was alone or the younger man was present. “Drink?” he called out as he poured them each a finger of whiskey.

            “No matter what you say, I still don’ think it’s normal for a psychiatrist to drink with his patient during workin’ hours,” Eggsy commented even as he graciously accepted his glass, breath catching in his throat when his fingers brushed lightly against the doctor’s.

            “The beauty of working for myself Eggsy, is that I get to bend the rules every once in a while; as long as no one is getting hurt, we can indulge ourselves in a little bit of this, hm?” he smirked as he settled back in his seat. “Of course, it also helps that these aren’t my working hours, Eggsy.”

            The young man tilted his head in confusion.

            “I made an exception when I was presented with your case,” Harry elaborated as he took a sip, humming in satisfaction. “My office hours don’t normally extend past seven in the evening, but I was told the only time you had available was later. I said yes on account of wanting to help you.”

            Eggsy gaped, automatically taking a sip of his drink when Harry gestured him too, his face scrunching up at the taste. “You ain’t had to do that, Dr. Hart. They could’ve assigned my case to anyone. And no, still ain’t used to this shite,” he wiped at his mouth but kept the glass next to him, aware he was going to drink all of it anyway.

            “You’ll get used to it with time,” Harry chuckled. “Eggsy, anyone else with your case would have butchered it completely,” he spoke honestly as he sat back in his seat. “They would have seen your past criminal record and judged from that alone that you were unfit to raise a child, no matter your step-father’s own past indiscretions with the law. Frankly, it was rather surprising that they even agreed to let you have these assessments instead of refusing from the very beginning.”

            Eggsy’s jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t lettin’ him take her,” he said resolutely, his gaze fixating on Harry’s, filled with the sort of determination one develops after choosing to forge on  despite a life of disappointments and broken hopes.

            Harry smiled darkly, completely in agreement with Eggsy’s statement. “I know that, Eggsy. I’m here to help you make sure he never gets the chance to.”

            The younger man leaned back in his seat, more comfortable with Dr. Hart than he had been with anyone else in a very long time. By all means, Eggsy should feel completely out of place – god knows he had for the first few sessions, the place was so bloody _posh_ – but Harry had mastered the art of making everyone feel at ease around him. “Ain’t you s’posed to be objective in this?” he asked with a knowing smile, his brow quirked inquisitively.

            The doctor chuckled once more, “I most certainly am. That, however, does not negate my ability to determine whether or not I think your sister would be safer with you or with Mr. Baker. Your own past was proof enough that he is unfit to raise children, if you don’t mind my saying.”

            The younger man flinched slightly, though he knew the words were not meant as an insult to him nor his character. They had come a long way from that first session where Eggsy had flat out refused to say anything, Dr. Hart carrying on with a one-sided conversation that consisted mostly of him enumerating every one of Eggsy’s past criminal offences. “Tell me about the day your mother left,” was what had finally caused the younger man to snap, his eyes heated with rage and injustice.

            “You don’t know fuck all about my mother,” he had spat out, using his anger as an excuse to jump out of that stupid leather seat the way he’d been wanting to since he first set foot in that damn office.

            “I never insinuated that I did; I merely want you to tell me what happened the day she left.” Harry was calm and put-together, unfazed by the other man’s distressing anger. “You can choose not to tell me, of course, but do remember that these sessions are court-mandated, Mr. Unwin, and they will determine whether you get full custody of your younger sister, or if that should fall onto your step-father’s shoulders. Of course, a foster home is also looking very likely given both of your histories on the wrong side of the law.”

            “Fuck you,” Eggsy had seethed, ready to leave the room in a haste when Harry’s next remark stopped him.

            “Do not think of me as the enemy in this situation, Mr. Unwin. I’m here to ensure your sister goes to where it will be safest for her; this is neither about you nor your step-father. We’re here to secure Daisy the brightest future possible. I believe she would be happiest if she were with you, but you need to prove that you are capable of caring for her.”

            That had calmed the man down considerably, the anger slowly draining out of him as he processed the words. Their sessions since then had gone far better, Eggsy finally being made aware of the fact that the entire purpose of going through those meetings was to get Daisy back, and not to judge him on his past mistakes.

            “I still don’ get you,” Eggsy said after a quiet moment, bringing Harry back to the present. “I don’t get why you took this case.” He stood up, restless as he was, and paced slowly around the room, his eyes training on the numerous bookcases and the old and rare titles they held. He longed to run his fingers across their spines, to feel the history they held within their pages but no matter the comfort and confidence he had grown to have around Dr. Hart, he was still afraid that one touch from him would tarnish the worth of anything the other man owned. He also knew he was dreadfully out of place, his jeans and baseball jacket hardly matching the décor, though Harry has never made him feel lesser for it.

            Harry took to observing him calculatingly the same way he had been for every session they’ve had so far, taking in the lean and muscled lines of the younger man’s body, his brown eyes catching on something new every time; whether it be the beauty marks scattered around the base of Eggsy’s neck or the blend of blue and green that warred in his eyes. He shook himself out of his reverie. “I took a look at your case initially as a favour to a friend. My decision in accepting however was solely because of you. You are a paradox, Eggsy,” Harry explained when the younger man turned to face him quizzically. “A walking contradiction. Your father died when you were eight years old, killed in action while serving in the army. The only paternal influence you had came from Dean Baker, a rather repulsive and abusive man, who then fathered your half-sister; the very sister you are currently battling to win custody for after your mother’s abrupt departure.” He let out a sigh and shook his head wearily. “By all means, Eggsy, most people in your situation would not be setting their lives aside in order to raise a child.”

            “She’s my sister,” Eggsy stated plainly. “There ain’t nothing special about me wantin’ to protect her.”

            Harry nodded, aware that Eggsy would not be able to grasp the full reasons for his befuddlement. Harry was not easily surprised, but the young man before him continued to astound him in entirely unexpected ways. That was exactly the sort of response that made Harry want to help him. Harry may be a heartless man himself, but he could certainly admire the trait in a select few others.

            “Been comin’ here for weeks now,” Eggsy looked at him curiously over his shoulder as he continued to pace around. “You’re righ’ though, I dunno much about you, do I? All I know is that you used to be a military surgeon, and that you have a ‘passion for food’,” he used the exact same words Harry had used to describe his avid interest in cooking.

            “We’re not here to learn about me, Eggsy,” Harry changed the subject easily enough. “Now, are you hungry? I’ve prepared a meal for us this evening as I imagine you have yet to eat.” He stood and walked to the door of his office, opening it and turning to look expectantly at the other man.

            Eggsy smiled beautifully as he approached him, a spring in his step. “Yes, Harry. Do you make food for all of your clients?” he asked cheekily as he walked through the door.

            “Nonsense,” Harry chuckled as he followed the younger man down the hallway. “I only cook for people who are deserving of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for aftermath of violence.
> 
> The first few chapters will be fairly short, sorry about that guys!

                The sirens were blaring into the once silent night, the blue and red lights shining over the dark streets, illuminating the flats around the neighbourhood and the faces peering out of their windows. Yellow tape blocked the entrance to one of the many buildings, policemen and emergency personnel surrounding the immediate area, an ambulance and a coroner’s truck parked nearby.

            Eggsy observed all of this with absent eyes, the scene refusing to process fully in his mind no matter how many times he attempted to _understand_. Who were all these people? Why were they here? He could feel something on him, something that had started off warm, but had slowly turned sticky and tragic. Eggsy felt dirty and cold, no matter the amount of blankets they put on his shoulders as he sat on the stretcher, little Daisy huddled close to his side.

They had tried to separate the two but had come to the unanimous decision to leave them together after averse reactions from both adult and child. They had also tried to ask him questions, their voices drifting in and out of his head, the words never truly registering. He’d shook his head and refused to open his mouth, afraid that the scream he’d been holding back all evening would finally unleash.

From what seemed like very far away, Eggsy could hear his name being called repeatedly, the caller trying in vain to get his attention. “Mr. Unwin,” they said. “Mr. Unwin?” they asked.

Suddenly, a man appeared in his visual field, his aged face and white hair forming a rather strong impression. “Mr. Unwin, I understand you’re going through a bit of a shock, but at this moment, I need you to focus.”

Eggsy cringed and shook his head. He could feel the mental walls pressing in on him from every direction and he just… he just needed – “H-Harry,” was the first word that choked out of him in hours. “Dr. Hart,” he corrected himself hastily, his throat rough and scratchy. “W-where is he?”

Through the blanket of fog that covered his eyes, he could see the old man sigh wearily before turning around, gesturing for someone to approach from the distance. The old man proceeded to move aside, letting another take his place in front of him.

“Eggsy?” the familiar voice finally caught his attention. “Eggsy, look at me.”

Eggsy nearly sobbed with relief as Harry manifested in front of him, his face grim and serious as his brown eyes roamed over the younger man’s figure, the colorful sirens reflecting in lenses and making the psychiatrist look all the more surreal.

“Eggsy, we’re going to take you and Daisy to the hospital now, alright? Don’t worry,” Dr. Hart’s smile was strained but sincere, “I won’t let them separate you. Would you like me to ride with you as well?”

Eggsy nodded fitfully, his hand reaching out to grasp Harry’s sleeve, refusing to let the man go further than three steps away from him. “Please,” he choked out. “I don’t…”

“Shh, Eggsy,” Harry helped the younger man and his sister into the ambulance, the emergency workers following after them. In that moment, he was uncaring of Eggsy’s bloodied hands running across his expensive clothing, letting his distressed patient take comfort in whatever he could where Harry would have normally already been calculating ways to deal his punishments for such apparent rudeness. “You’ll be alright,” he said instead.

*

The hospital was stark and white, the hallways empty save for a few nurses and doctors milling about, the building devoid of visitors at such a late hour. There was only one wing of the hospital that was seeing more traffic than usual, police officers streaming in and out of one particular room.

Eggsy sat still on his bed as he was checked over by nurses for what felt the twentieth time in the last five minutes, his gaze unmoving from the plain wall opposite him, his younger sister sleeping in his lap. They hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet, their skin and clothes still covered in layers of dried blood and dirt.

Harry stayed dutifully in the room, never wandering far from the young charges he had assumed for the night, his eyes carefully observing and calculating every person that came within distance of them.

“Mr. Unwin,” came a voice from the entrance. His presence demanded attention, his shoulders held back and his stature strong for a man his age. “I take it you are feeling better,” the older man continued, advancing towards them, the others in the room easily clearing a path for him.

Eggsy’s eyes flickered between Harry and the new addition, but he remained silent.

“Mr. Unwin, I am Superintendent Chester King,” he introduced himself with a stiff smile. With one look from him, the rest of the room cleared out, leaving behind only Harry and the two siblings. “I will be taking charge of this case, and so I expect you will be seeing a lot of me.” He grabbed hold of a chair as he spoke, dragging it closer and placing it near Eggsy’s bedside. He took a seat, heaving a weary breath as he pulled the glasses off his nose, his eyes piercing as they returned to fix on Eggsy. “Do you know which case I’m speaking of, Mr. Unwin?”

Eggsy held on to his sister tighter, still refusing to say anything. Harry kept quiet, choosing to remain a silent observer until his presence was demanded.

The Superintendent smiled stiffly, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “Dean Anthony Baker’s body was recovered in your flat, Mr. Unwin. He was fatally stabbed within the last four hours and I must say, that is quite a lot of blood on you.”

The younger man’s gaze finally seemed to focus a little, his light eyes widening and turning to fix on the old man.

“Your fingerprints are all over the knife, Mr. Unwin.” Chester King’s smile was still stiff on his face.

“I do believe you are meant to wait for a lawyer to be present before you start harassing a traumatised victim for answers he is not fit to give,” Harry finally spoke up, his voice icy and cutting as he crept out of his corner, coming to a stop on the opposite side of Eggsy’s bed.

“Dr. Hart, you’re still here,” Superintendent King greeted him coldly. “I was not aware you were called on to make a profile for this case,” he remarked.

“I wasn’t,” he confirmed. “I’m here because Eggsy called me a few hours ago, scared for his life as well as his sister’s. I arrived at the scene right as the police did.”

“Is that so?” the older man chuckled. “Is this young man a patient of yours, Dr. Hart?”

“I think that will be all for now, Superintendent,” Harry told him instead, his voice not holding any nonsense. “You may return when the boy’s lawyer is present.”

Chester stared at them both, silent for a moment before nodding pensively, placing the glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Understood,” he nodded, slowly standing up. “I should perhaps let you know that there will be policemen guarding that door,” he pointed towards the entrance. “They will be monitoring _everyone_ ’s comings-and-goings,” he smiled, tipping his head in their direction before making his exit, the door closing shut behind him.

Eggsy stared blankly for a while before forcing his voice out. “Dr. Hart?” he asked quietly, his throat still scratchy. His neck was covered in bruises and scratches, his vocal chords aching with every syllable he forced out. “Do they think it was murder?”

“Worry not, Eggsy,” Harry’s gaze was still firmly fixated on the door. “It will all be taken care of.”


	3. Chapter 3

            “What have you done?”

            “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you’re talking about.”

            The man in the armchair across from Harry settled back, an unamused expression on his face as he sighed, his long fingers reaching up to adjust the glasses perching on the bridge of his nose. “You know what I’m talking about, Harry,” he continued in his Scottish brogue, an eyebrow arching elegantly. “What did you do to the boy?”

            “I was nowhere near him at the time of the incident,” Harry responded truthfully, his brown eyes diverting from where they’d been carefully observing the world outside for a moment. “All I did was make my way to him when I was asked to.”

            Harry’s mouth moved into a semblance of a smile, but Merlin knew better. The other man had been his patient for years and his colleague for even more, and if there was something Merlin had always been aware of, it was that Harry Hart was not what he appeared to be. “I’m very curious as to what could have possibly caused the younger man’s step-father to snap the way he did. It was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” he crossed one leg over the other, his gaze trained onto Harry’s face, the expression shifting minutely.

            “Dean Anthony Baker had a history of domestic abuse,” Harry listed patiently, his smile ever-present, “that much has been documented quite extensively. It was perhaps the main reason for Michelle Unwin’s abrupt departure earlier on in the year. I don’t believe it was outside the realm of possibility for Mr. Baker to turn dangerously violent at the drop of a hat,” he stated calmly as his fingers tapped against the armrest.

            Merlin decided to cut to the chase. “Did you make a phone call to the house prior to the incident, Harry?”

            Harry’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s. His expression gave nothing away as he spoke the next few words. “What is it that you are insinuating?”

            Merlin’s sighed harshly and removed his glasses, his long fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “You have an… interest in the boy, that much is evident.”

            “An interest?” Harry scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

            “Clearly,” Merlin deadpanned. “You’re curious about him. Was that not what you told me when you shifted around your schedule and your patients just to fit him in? You’ve never done that before.”

            “His history and his personality are completely out of sync; yes, I was curious,” Harry admitted freely. It was not a new topic of conversation; they’d spoken about it in length when Harry first decided to take on Eggsy’s case. “Growing up in a violent household during one’s formative years normally lends to violent tendencies in the future but Eggsy has shown evidence of no such thing. He’s a highly intelligent young man, though he rarely lets anyone see it.”

            “His hidden intelligence intrigues you?” Merlin asked.

            “No, no. Not his intelligence, though yes, his mind is quite beautiful,” Harry smiled gently to himself. “He was in the Marines for a short while. Or at least, he made it halfway through his training.”

            “Military history,” Merlin nodded, aware of Harry’s own past in the army. “Did you feel some sort of connection to him? A shared past, maybe?”

            “No. Eggsy never quite made it out into the field,” Harry reached across the table at his side and gently grabbed hold of his glass of wine, carefully taking a measured sip. Unconventional, but traditional for them all the same. “He was found… lacking, psychologically speaking.”

            Merlin’s brows furrowed. “Meaning?”

            “He could never shoot at a living target, enemy or not.” Harry’s voice was bordering on awe-inspired, his gaze lost somewhere in the past. “He was made to leave when they realised he would never be able to shoot anyone down, let alone kill them; a rather grave flaw in one trying to become a soldier.”

            Merlin was perplexed. Harry was fascinated by the younger man because he refused to kill? That couldn’t possibly be all there was. “And?” he prompted.

            “And I was curious,” Harry took another sip. “A young man with his history who wants to join the army but refuses to take part in any sort of violence; it peaked my professional curiosity.”

            Merlin observed the man for a moment, his thoughts firing at him from every direction. “What does your… _professional_ curiosity have to say about him now? Was he not covered in his step-father’s blood a mere few days ago?”

            “That was self-defence,” Harry made it clear, his voice cold as ice. “He was saving his sister’s life as well as his own. He had no other choice.”

            “Then he called you,” Merlin stood from his seat and walked towards the table against the furthest wall. “Superintendent Chester King sent me the file from that night,” he stated as he picked up the item in question, waving the manila folder around as he walked back to stand in front of Harry, hand outstretched to offer it to him. “He believes you’re far too compromised to be able to take on this case.”

            Harry froze, the thumping in his chest reverberating through his ears as he accepted the file. “Eggsy is my patient,” he articulated his words carefully as he forced himself to move, idly flipping through the papers, “as well as my friend. I will continue to help him as he fights child care services for custody of his sister. I will also,” he made sure to add, his gaze serious, “be by his side as he fights off these new charges.”

            Merlin returned to his seat, his expression pensive as he ran the words over. “Your interest in him was initiated because he was believed to be incapable of violence. He has, indeed, proven you wrong,” Merlin’s eyes snapped to Harry’s in realisation. “Or were _you_ the one attempting to prove yourself wrong?”

            Harry occupied himself with taking a sip from his wine glass, savoring the tangy flavour of it before swallowing it down as he looked at the papers on his lap. They showed him nothing he was not already aware of.

            “The file you’re holding in your hands,” Merlin started again, “the report states that a phone call was made to the household earlier on in the evening from an untraceable number; before Eggsy returned home. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

            “No,” was his simple reply.

            “And you will refuse to back out of the case?”

            “Yes.”

            Merlin nodded tiredly. His sessions with Harry were always mentally draining, no matter how long they’d been at it for. Attempting to psychoanalyse the man when he refused to give anything up was nearly impossible. “Harry, you’re treading into dangerous territory,” Merlin warned him. “Your mask is starting to slip.”

            “I appreciate your concern, old friend, but it is quite unnecessary. I know what I’m getting myself into,” Harry’s demeanour relaxed as he remembered that the man in his company had his interests at heart.

            “Superintendent Chester King will not be happy with your decision,” Merlin reminded him as he stood, Harry joining him as they walked towards the dining room.

            “With all due respect, Chester King can shove it,” Harry scoffed.

            “He’ll want to make an example out of the boy,” Merlin continued into the kitchen, heading for the expensive containers Harry had brought with him for their supper. The other man insisted on being the one to cook even when dinner would be had at Merlin’s house.

            “Then I’ll make an example out of our dear superintendent,” was all Harry said, a tricky smile playing on the corner of his lips.

            Merlin shook his head exasperatingly, but he let go of the subject. He did not wish to know more than he needed to until it was time for him to do so. “You spoil me with your cooking,” was what he said instead, choosing to change the topic of conversation.

            “You are quite deserving of it, I assure you,” Harry smirked as he went about plating the food. “Now, let us eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Opinions and comments are super appreciated :D 
> 
> You guys can also find me on Tumblr [here](http://midnightsurge.tumblr.com)
> 
> \- I'll probably start taking prompts soon if anybody is interested :)


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